McHunters
by Gandalf15
Summary: A lonely restaurant in the middle of the night. Two brothers stop for a meal. Things stir and stalk. (Rated T for scary bits, just to be safe.)
1. Chapter 1

**[Author's Notes: I do not own** _ **Supernatural**_ **and have no affiliation with McDonald's. There is no specific commentary on any real-life company intended in this story. Reviews will be appreciated.]**

* * *

It was an Impala that drove down the road. A 1967 Impala that was driving down a dark, rain-soaked road and had a radio that was playing the Eagles' "Hotel California".

"Sam. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna stop and get something to eat? Stretch our legs?"

"Oh. Sure."

The one who had said Sam's name was Dean. The one whose mind had been elsewhere was Sam. They were brothers. And they hunted things.

From amidst the dark sea of silhouetted foliage and dark patches of the night appeared glowing arches in an M shape, one of the brightest beacons of the Western world. On this particular neon sign, one side of it was almost burned out, making it look almost like an N instead of an M.

Dean slowed and turned the Impala into the barely-visible entrance to the McDonald's parking lot. Bright, warm lights shone out of the building's rectangular windows, and there were only a few other cars in the parking lot.

As the brothers exited the car, Dean asked "You wanna grab it 'n go, or eat here?"

Sam shrugged. "Eh… let's eat here. Give our butts a vacation from the Impala seats to booth seats."

Dean smirked as he opened the door. The bright light the brothers entered stood starkly against the shadowy world of the evening.

The air was conditioned cool. A pop song played faintly in the background. The walls were a dark red, almost brown. The electric lights glistened of the polished table surfaces and floor.

There were barely any people in the place. An older man sat at a table by himself, dipping his fries in ketchup. In a booth at another end of the restaurant sat a middle-aged looking woman and a tweenish-looking girl. Both of their heads of long red hair were strikingly similar. Shifting movements in what was visible of the kitchen indicated there were cooks behind the counter.

Dean stared to walk towards the counter. "I'll order. Usual?"

"Sure."

Dean smirked. "Sammy and his McDonald's usual."

Sam rolled his eyes and went to sit down, picking out a small table that wasn't too close to the few other customers. He watched Dean at the counter, talking to the short, mousy-looking girl with too much eyeshadow and a lip ring who worked there.

The old man silently chewed his fries. The presumably mother and daughter talked in the hushed tones people usually talk in when they're in a large room with a few strangers.

Sam sat and halfheartedly twiddled his thumbs. From where he sat, he could see out one of the large class windows into the darkness behind the restaurant. A streetlight in the back illuminated the large, contorted form of the children's playset next to the bench with a statue of Ronald McDonald sitting on it. Beyond that was simply the night.

* * *

After a few minutes, he looked up to see Dean approaching with their meals. Dean sat down opposite Sam and gave him a burger wrapped in greasy paper and a container of fries. The fries sprinkled off salt as Dean slid the container over to Sam.

They unwrapped and gratefully bit into their burgers. Swallowing his first bite, Sam asked "So, how long until Cincinnati?"

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he thought. "Uh… we get a hotel tonight, leave bright'n'early tomorrow… should be there around one-ish."

Sam ate a fry without looking at it. "Any thoughts on what it is we might be after when we get there?"

"Nada. Not 'til we get more info. Bunch a stiffs, all dead, all look like accidents, except…" Dean waggled his eyebrows. Despite what one might think at first glance, he had an ever-so-slight flair for the dramatic. "…they're all covered in weird substances. Dirt, paint, marble, plastic… they're all dead, and they're all wearing coat of _something_. Don't suppose that gives you any ideas?"

Sam shook his head.

"Me neither. But Bobby's pretty sure there's something supernatural going on."

A flash of red caught Sam's eye, almost blood-like, and he looked over. It was just the tween girl, walking towards the ladies' room. He looked back at Dean. "Well, if Bobby says so."

Dean nodded and sipped his Coke. "Anyways, since we're there, figure we might as well try some chili. Wonder what they good places for that are?"

"Dean."

"I know, I know, we're on a job, but we've been working pretty hard lately, we deserve a break, huh? And, you know what, it's been a little while since I've practiced my graffiti technique. Could probably find a good spot for that."

"Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, it's vandalism, I get it, but you only live once, Sammy. Never hurts to have a hobby either. And I haven't even gotten into the night-life possibilities…"

"Dean."

"Yeesh, Sam, what is it? _What?_ "

"It's gone."

"What's gone?"

Sam pointed behind Dean. Dean turned and looked out the back window at the playset and bench.

The empty bench.


	2. Chapter 2

As the toilet flushed, Natalie brushed her red hair out of her face. She didn't care for restaurant bathrooms. There was always this smell about them; even if it wasn't the obvious bad smell, there was still this unpleasant, sterile sort of scent around everything in a restaurant's bathroom. Also, the sharp florescent lights gave everything a weird, sort of garish look.

Just as she turned to open the stall door and step out, there was a sound.

Natalie paused. Listened.

It was a scraping, grating, rough sound, like someone was scrubbing two rocks against each other.

Natalie held her breath.

The sound stopped.

After a moment, Natalie shook herself and shrugged. _Just a weird sound in a bathroom. That's all. Quit being a baby._

Natalie reached for the stall latch, looked up, and screamed.

Ronald McDonald's face was staring at her from over the stall's wall. Just staying there, just staring. Staring at her. Its beady eyes and red smile were cold and still. They looked awfully unreal, stamped onto something that wasn't smiling and didn't have eyes.

Natalie backed up against the opposite wall, feeling like her breath was jammed in her throat.

As she watched, the clown head slowly lowered behind the stall wall out of sight.

Natalie stood there, backed up against the wall, unable to make any sounds, unable to do anything.

Then, with a great crack, the stall door was ripped off. The stone clown grabbed Natalie by the arm and started dragging her away with strength that wasn't human. Natalie finally found herself able to scream.

* * *

Sam and Dean were finishing up their meals.

There was a scream. The lights all went off.

In the pitch blackness, voices cried out. There were thuds and crashes, and strange grating sound.

"Sam?"

"Dean!"

"You with me?"

"Yeah! You alright?"

"Apart from my vision taking a vacation, yeah."

"Be alert! We don't know-"

Just as Sam was shouting caution, the lights flickered back on.

Everyone stopped and blinked. Sam and Dean were standing not far from their table, having jumped up when the lights went off. The redheaded woman was also standing, looking around frantically with scared eyes. The old man was still sitting at his table, still and pale.

From a door into the kitchen, the lip-ring girl stumbled out, followed by a guy with shaggy black hair.

"Th-that shouldn't have happened." Lip-Ring almost looked like she was talking to herself as she said this. "There a background generator. The p-power shouldn't have been out that long."

Dean straightened his jacket. "Yeah, well, it _was_ out that long."

Sam peered out a window. "Doesn't look like there's any storms nearby. Dean, did you hear about any-"

"Natalie? _Natalie!_ "

Everyone looked at the door to the ladies' room, where the red-headed woman was. While they had been talking, she had ran over to it and gone inside. Now she looked almost hysterical. "Has anyone seen my daughter? Natalie? My daughter? She just went in there just a minute ago! Has anyone seen her? She's not there! Natalie!"

"Calm down, ma'am," said Sam, in his best reassuring voice. "I'm sure your daughter's fine, just calm down."

He looked over at Dean, and their eyes met. They had the same thought, and could see it in each other.

Whatever was going on here wasn't normal. And it was going to get worse before it got better.


End file.
